Glitch in the System
by Digsjin
Summary: "What are you going to do if it lunges at you?" Armsmaster asked. "Fling shit at him." Glitch sarcastically answered for his Crew. The Tinker had to resist the temptation to slam his head into a wall. "Where would you even get the shit from?" Legend asked in turn, trying not to laugh. "It's Leviathan," Newter deadpanned, "The shit will be there, trust me." Villain SI!
1. Chapter 1

_Prologue: Inception_

_"__No, you don't get, do you? 'Cause if you did you wouldn't have said that. You see I might be a merc, but I'm not minion material and it has to do with my favorite hobby. No! Not playing Video Games! It's finding a guy who thinks he's hot shit and has power over me and telling him 'No' right to his face. The Faces they make are priceless! Which leads me to my next favorite hobby... breaking priceless things.__"_

_Übermensch, _one of the contenders for, if not the strongest Cape in Europe, was dead.

Max Anders clenched his fists tightly. He vaguely hoped that Krieg would mistake the act for one of rage as opposed to the genuine worry he was currently experiencing. _A leader cannot appear worried even in the face of an Endbringer_, he thought while releasing an inner sigh.

"Did you gather the information I asked for?" He calmly asked Krieg instead of voicing his thoughts.

The German Cape nodded slowly and placed a dossier with a picture of a man, teenager really on the cover. The Cape was wearing a leather trench coat that was all too common in the Empire 88 along with a more decorative than a functional gas mask, which managed to obscure all of his facial features.

_Though considering Gaskammer comes from the Gesellschaft, he looks like the perfect Aryan, no question about that_, he thought as he began to glance at the fragmented information Krieg managed to recover. Some of them originating from both the now-defunct Gesellschaft's database. But most of them from the European equivalent of the PRT. The people who were dealing with the aftermath of what the press over there was calling the Gaskammer Massacre.

Having given a cursory review of the teenage Cape's files as he focused on the threat assessment assigned to him by Interpol, he said the only thing that came to mind, "This could be bad." After all, what else could Max say about a formerly unknown cape who killed Übermensch? The S-Class leader of the Gesellschaft, a biokinetic villain who could change his DNA intuitively and at will, making him a powerful Brute, Mover, Changer, Stranger, and even Thinker if Krieg's information was correct.

Krieg graced him with a skeptical look at his statement, one which Max took to mean that it wasn't just 'bad'; it was way, _way_ worse.

"You don't get it, do you?" Krieg asked his nervousness allowing his accent to come to the fore for once. Instantly Max straightened, and short metal spikes began to grow out of his armor. Valuable a subordinate as Krieg might be, he wouldn't tolerate disrespect from anyone whose balls, _or in Kayden's case whose children_, he did not firmly hold in a leash.

Krieg sat down without a further word; the vintage clock whose ticking he was usually fond of now only served to exacerbate the newly created tension between the two capes. Finally, it was Kaiser who broke the silence. "What do I not get? Gesellschaft trained him since he was eight. Hell, he triggered in their custody. He may be skilled, but here is everything there is to know about him and his powers. Besides, he probably just took Übermensch by surprise, his powers are good, but not good enough for him to take out such a powerful changer in a straight fight."

_Not to mention with the destruction of their power base in Europe, a bunch of former members are headed for greener pastures. I would almost thank Gaskammer if I weren't worried, he'll also be coming for us_.

Krieg shook his head, "His official rankings give him a Shaker-5 rating for his ability to produce any kind of gas in small quantities, something which coincides with his Cape Name and the rumors I've heard of him, but I sincerely doubt that's all there is to it."

Kaiser favored Krieg with a look, and the German Cape elaborated. "Gaskammer triggered under the _Wundersoldatprogramm_," he added gravely.

"You mean those rumored efforts the Gesellschaft undertook to force trigger events?" Kaiser asked with an uneasiness he hoped didn't manage to creep into his voice.

"Exactly," Krieg emphasized with a nod, "look, contrary to what most people believe it wasn't as simple as forcing members to trigger by torturing them. Gesellschaft hired some freelance Tinkers to make this," Krieg said, pointing at a picture of a syringe filled with a viscous looking neon blue liquid, "It's Tinkertech and don't ask me how. But, when someone is injected with it, it pushes their brains to their limits in terms of stress, either causing a Trigger Event and healing them afterward or killing them instantly."

"I'm guessing it didn't work very often," Kaiser stated more than asked after giving a cursory review to the casualty reports included in the files.

"It only worked _once_," Krieg corrected with a brief nod, "more specifically, Gaskammer is the only surviving member of that particular method of forcing a trigger event."

Krieg flipped through the dossier he had handed to him, eventually opening a page with a birth certificate for a "Heinrich Weber," with a photo of what even Kaiser could admit was a cute little blond kid. Well, cute if it hadn't been for the Hitler Youth uniform he was wearing and the fact that he was standing next to a perpetually scowling Übermensch.

"What made him so special? I mean, why did they choose him of all people?" _Apart from being blond and having blue eyes_

Krieg flipped through another few pages before continuing, "Well, his family's loyalty to the cause for one. I'm pretty sure he's descended from some officers who fled to South America after WWII. But that characteristic was pretty much a given from all the members who were selected. I guess what made him stand out were his grades if you'll believe that."

Kaiser raised an eyebrow in disbelief, not that Krieg could see it, but his silence and posture got his point across anyway.

"His academic career short as it was, was from a grades-standpoint flawless, straight ones or as they would be here A's on literally everything." Krieg paused to allow Kaiser the chance to flip through the child's record himself, and sure enough, he hadn't been exaggerating.

"However, it was coupled by isolationist, some would even go so far as to call them sociopathic tendencies, so in the end, Gesellschaft Thinkers concluded that the boy was a once in a decade prodigy while at the same time being a prime candidate for the _Wundersoldatprogramm_."

"It didn't quite work out like that, did it?" Kaiser asked, crushing the satisfaction that welled up at seeing his '_puppet masters_' in Germany fail. Like it or not, they were a significant financer for the E88, and while their loss was sure to get them some members from the now-defunct organization, the consequences of their massacre could prove… _troublesome_ for morale and recruitment of well-informed capes.

"No," Krieg responded with a frown, "Oh, he _was_ a prodigy, there's no way to deny that. Apparently, he took to the more rigorous aspects of his education with a drive that was simply unnatural in a child. And after he triggered, he picked up every single skill the other members tried to teach him with a speed that was previously unheard of. But the indoctrination…" Krieg continued only to be stopped by his superior, interrupting him.

"What did Übermensch want him to do, exactly?"

"Murder," Krieg answered with an easy shrug. "To be more exact Übermensch wanted him to take out most of Germany's left-wing politicians for all the harm it would've done them. Gaskammer's first mission in that capacity was, according to a few favors I called in, to assassinate the Chancellor before this whole debacle took place."

Kaiser resisted the urge to slam his head into his desk in frustration at his counterpart's stupidity,

"Übermensch wanted to send a fifteen-year-old, to assassinate a world leader?" He asked, incredulously. As strong as young triggers sometimes were, they were also almost all loose cannons, and most of them were nuttier than squirrel shit, _Mouse Protector immediately comes to mind_.

"There were more rumors about him." Krieg finally said.

"Such as…?" Krieg was usually a down to business and to-the-point kind of guy, for him to sound this unsure was a rare event, it made Max even more curious and though he'd never admit it, not even to himself, just a tad more afraid.

Krieg let out a sigh, "As I said, I'm fairly sure whatever's on his file isn't true, at least not completely. Übermensch kept him very close to the chest no matter who I ask, but apart from the rumors about him having schizophrenia as he talked to himself far too often for it not to be considered odd, I also learned that he might be a Trump."

That more so than anything else managed to set Max on edge. Both Trumps and Tinkers could either be really weak or ludicrously strong depending on certain conditions, as evidenced by Eidolon and Squealer, respectively. "What can he do besides this?" Max asked, tapping his finger at the threat assessment laid before him.

Krieg thought for a moment, "It's not that he can actually _do_ anything, it's that apparently, he's completely immune to all Thinkers, or at least every Thinker he's ever encountered up until now."  
"That's… impossible." It was a well-known fact among people as well-informed as Kaiser that the only things, _because they were things_, entirely immune to Thinkers were the Endbringers, Eidolon and Scion himself. Hell, even Hatchet Face, with his power-nullifying aura, wasn't immune.

"Apparently not," Krieg responded matter-of-factly.

A momentary lull in conversation ensued as both parties took the time to process the information.

"So, that's why Übermensch wanted to send him to assassinate your chancellor."

"Probably the main reason." Krieg conceded. "But that's not really why he's so threatening as an assassin. Apart from rumors of his schizophrenia. You should also note that he was rarely if ever spotted sleeping." Krieg paused here, though whether to gather his thoughts or for dramatic effect Max couldn't quite say, "I believe he might also be a Noctis Cape much like our _dearest_ Miss Militia, which is why he managed to master everything Gesellschaft tried to teach him in such a short time."

Kaiser considered the implications of this information. A Cape who was worse off than Oni Lee in the mental health department. Who knew perfectly well how to murder someone discreetly. Who didn't need rest, was immune to a plethora of things that could kill him otherwise and even to Thinkers _somehow_ and had a much stronger and versatile power than he'd initially let on. And this Cape might now be gunning for Gesellschaft affiliates? In short, none of the implications were good ones.

"Did you manage to retrieve Gesellschafts' files on him?" Kaiser asked.

Krieg nodded and pointed at a USB drive ensconced within the manila folder, Kaiser calmly plugged it into his computer and played the first video file that popped up, tilting his screen so Krieg could see it as well, even though both of them knew the German cape had already seen the footage and likely reviewed it for himself several times.

* * *

I tried desperately to remain calm under the situation, but I was never good with hospitals even when there was nothing to worry about, why would I be good with them now? Especially considering the Doctor who's about to try and give me powers is the closest living equivalent to Mengele that can be found on this planet. Well, apart from _maybe_ Nilbog and Bonesaw, who to me at least are very close seconds in terms of how terrifying they are. Though all things considered Riley might not have triggered, I might have Butterflied it away after all.

I shook my head slowly from side to side. No use thinking about all the hurricanes I may or may not have created, this situation was already fucked from start to finish, and the only way I could make it _worse_ was if Scion ended up winning. And considering he would also be going after my original home, that is not a possibility I wanted to allow, or even really contemplate for that matter. Not to mention getting revenge for what the Simurgh did to Earth Bet's version of my country is starting to sound pretty nice too.

I've never figured out how I ended up on Earth Bet, whether it was Truck-Kun's mysterious powers or something else (meaning Abbadon). Whatever the case for some reason I couldn't remember anything about my home.

Though that's not quite true, I could remember what I learned in school, the breathtaking mountain views of where I lived and how to cook like my mom taught me. Except, I couldn't remember my teachers or classmates. I couldn't remember when, how or with whom I saw those views and I couldn't remember my mom, or anyone else for that matter. But I could remember Worm perfectly down to the last detail in fact and if this wasn't a sign of a divine being playing some kind of sick prank, I didn't know what was.

I briefly considered that my information was incorrect and perhaps somehow the consequence of some kind of Master ability one of the goddamn Nazis had, or maybe it was my power and unbeknownst to me I had triggered. But I dismissed the former simply because the Nazis wouldn't have planted information in my head that went counter to the brainwashing they inflicted on a daily basis, and the latter because they did a scan for a Corona Gemma and Pollentia to myself and the other children in the compound. Needless to say, I lacked both and I was hopefully about to gain them, _if I didn't die that is, but then again, I'd rather die than be an unpowered Nazi Mook in a world of Superheroes._

"Sie können sich gerne hinsetzen Herrn Weber," the rough Austrian-accented voice of the Doctor somehow echoed through the tiny room instantly snapping me out of my reverie, something which usually annoyed me. Still, considering the direction my thoughts were headed in, I was thankful for it this time around. Even if the prick is a fucking Nazi who's probably killed more than enough kids to get him his own parking space next to Satan at this point.

And to show my appreciation to the man. I ran as fast as my stubby legs could carry me while subtly flipping him off and plopped my ass down on the surprisingly comfortable leather chair, even if it was several sizes too large for an eight-year-old.

What came next made me flinch involuntarily, the doctor tying leather bands around all of my limbs and placing a mouth guard made out of rubber between my teeth. Which told me A, I was going to flop around like an angry epileptic trout and B, this was going to be so painful that I was going to grit my teeth hard enough to break them_. I'm already regretting my commitment to Liberty or Death_.

"Alles gut?" He asked with a raised eyebrow behind his bizarre multi-lensed glasses, I nodded swallowing the bile that was building in the back of my throat out of nervousness, "Das wird ein kleines bisschen weh tun." He said matter-of-factly and not at all apologetically. On my Earth, which for the sake of ease I'll call Earth-Prime, when doctors admitted something would hurt, you were basically fucked. It seemed Earth Bet wasn't too different in that regard.

I say that because he then proceeded to _fucking stab me_! With a syringe so large that it could've conceivably passed for a Nail Gun. One would think the pain of that thing stabbing through your intestines would be the worst of it, but no, of course not. As soon as it pierced my skin, every fiber of my Being felt like it was on fire. My nervous system may as well have been conducting lightning. However, even so, through all of the pain, I felt a discernible sense of odd lethargy. The closest comparison would be a blood transfusion, but instead of blood, the other liquid is mercury.

The pain didn't lessen even as my vision started to blank. I was vaguely aware of my tears and hoarse screaming, though when they had begun, I couldn't say. Time, Space, and even imagination faded away; all that was left was the pain.

It was then that I saw them, in the same way, I knew my 'foreign' memories were real; I knew who and more importantly _what_ those two whales were, _Zion and Eden_. They were floating in the night sky. But rather than coming closer to them as I expected, my vision began to swim, and they grew smaller and smaller as I hurtled through space at speeds that would make light jealous. The nauseating experience lasted until I saw a large blueish, but an unmistakably human-shaped entity. And when I did the pain began to recede.

[Destination], [Query], [Resignation], [Trajectory], [Acceptance]

The pain slowly began to ebb away, only for it to suddenly increase tenfold, but rather than something which occupied my entire body now it was solely concentrated on my forehead.

"_Did, did Abaddon just shove a Lovecraftian Parasite into my skull?_" I thought and perhaps would've spoken the words aloud if I thought my throat could've handled it with how hoarse it felt from screaming.

[Confirmation]

My question being answered by a voice inside my head. A voice that sounded exactly like Hal-9000 no less, did precious little to aid in preventing the oncoming panic attack.

* * *

"That was…"

"Horrifying," Krieg helpfully finished, and Max silently chastised himself for having said the words aloud.  
While not telling them much about Gaskammer's powers or potential threat rating, the video clearly showed them the cause for the Cape's murder spree. Kaiser had never considered Übermensch to be particularly intelligent. Well, not any more intelligent than one would need to be to act as a figurehead for the Thinkers and industrialists who _actually_ ran Gesellschaft, but to not fear that someone who underwent _this_ wouldn't swear revenge merely made the now dead man lose what little respect he had in Kaiser's eyes.

"Is there anything here that'll give us a clue as to the extent of his powers?" Max finally asked the million-dollar question.

Krieg sighed; it was the sigh of a man who had the world on his shoulders. "Yes and no," he began, "the footage from his massacre is basically just white billowing smoke in front of the cameras interspaced with the occasional scream. This tells us that the range of his gas is much bigger than what Gesellschaft had previously imagined, but beyond that our only clues are the aftermath."

"Elaborate," Kaiser ordered brusquely.

Krieg gestured for the keyboard and mouse and once Max handed them over his lieutenant brought up certain picture that would've made a weaker man lose his stomach.

"As you can see," the German Cape began with the intonation of a bored schoolteacher, "most of these wounds weren't inflicted by gasses."

It was true, one member was decapitated with what must have been an extremely sharp blade, a few others had bullet holes that went straight _through_ their bodies and Übermensch himself or rather his corpse... Kaiser suppressed a shiver, looked like an uglier version of the Elephant Man. This wouldn't have disquieted Kaiser so much, there were capes who were capable of similar amounts of destruction, but _this_ was accomplished in less than an hour.

"Now," Krieg continued, "It's possible that his power somehow allowed him to cause all of this, particularly Übermensch's injuries extremely quickly, however, it is also equally probable that he broke into their armory and used a supply of hitherto unknown Tinkertech to achieve it."

Kaiser pondered this for a moment. "More questions than answers, then?" Both possibilities were terrifying, Gaskammer having enough power on his own to do this, or having a lot of Tinkertech that could, the latter slightly less fear-inducing than the former, but this kind of speculation wasn't helpful in either case.

"Then there's no more use in speculating," Kaiser aired his thoughts brusquely, and Krieg frowned. "For now, continue gathering all the information you can on him, I don't care if you have to get outside Thinkers to do so, confirm whether he really has that Trump power and see if one of them can find a way past it. Also, get Toybox to do an analysis of the data we have, maybe they can identify whether Gaskammer used Tinkertech or not."

"Anything else?"

"Yes," Kaiser nodded, it physically pained him to have to dig into Medhall's profits more than he had to, especially since he no longer had Gesellschaft as a safety net, but… "get Faultline's Crew on retainer for the next few months, don't worry about the money, Medhall will take care of it. Also, has this news made it to the general public over here?"

"No," Krieg shook his head, "but it's only a matter of time, PHO has already gotten to it and while people might not give a shit about what happens in Africa with or without Capes, Europe is a very different story."

"I see, I'll get Hookwolf to kick the junkies out of wherever they're hiding and Victor to hold a rally next week, we need to project strength so Lung doesn't get any ideas, in the meantime work on Faultline, defending ourselves is the top priority for now."

* * *

"Hey Boss, wh-" A guarded voice addressed to me asked in the smoke-filled car we were all cramped in. I mightily resisted the urge to sigh. Honestly, I deserved a fucking award of some kind for dealing with these kids.

"Told you not to call me Boss, Grue. You're still an independent, talk like that, and people might start thinking you've joined our little merry band of misfits." I cut him off before he could ask his question. Then manifested and idly did a few impressive-looking tricks with a featureless steel Zippo lighter.

Grue, nervously cleared his throat, "Sorry, Glitch, I just have one small question."

Newter, for his part, gulped exaggeratedly and rolled his eyes at me while Grue was speaking. It showed me that he wasn't the least bit intimidated by my display. Even with me being immune to his most dangerous ability. Understandable as he _was_ the only person who actually knew that I hammed up the whole 'psychopath who'll gladly murder you in your sleep' shtick to up my intimidation factor. I liked Newter, he kept me from going full Shigaraki.

"Feel free to ask," I returned, taking a long drag out of my cigarette through a small hole I left open at the bottom of my mask for exactly that purpose.

"A-alright, then," his nervousness was palpable as he continued speaking, "why exactly are we doing this job, so close to… the building down the road?"  
I nodded my head. Grue's question wasn't unusual for newbie villains to ask. However, in his case, I had to continually remind myself that he was a newbie. _In a way, I learned the most about my job from him, after all_.

"Because the Nazis won't expect us here," I began re-adjusting my mask and flattening the creases on the modified straitjacket I was wearing. "Kaiser wanted to prevent violence in his territory by setting up his base close to the PRT. Lung and the Merchants don't dare strike this far into E88 turf for fear that the heroes will be able to mobilize more quickly and capture them while Kaiser's Capes fall back in good order. Most of the time, the deterrent works, but at this time of day?" I asked rhetorically while shaking my head, "The Wards are in School, the Heroes are on their Rig, and the police are patrolling areas where they're actually needed. Essentially everyone you're worrying about is occupied."

[Agreement] Generator added in the back of my mind, _very unhelpfully I might add_. [Sarcastic Retort]

"No shit," Connor, the only Non-Cape in my Crew, and our driver interjected. "The client already explained as much, why are you repeating yourself for the noob, Glitch?"

I directed a glare at him. Though he couldn't see my eyes, the pitiless gaze of my chrome helmet, which was modeled after what Elfen Lied's Lucy wore while she was imprisoned induced far more fear than my ordinary glare ever could. Though I admit I did have to hold back some laughter at my gamer slang having rubbed off on a hardened criminal like him. "Mr. Blonde, you know as well as I do that his concerns are valid and he's right to be nervous. This _is_ a more dangerous job than usual. Besides,' not like any of us were MLG when we got started."

Connor shrugged with a natural smile on his face and tilted his head in apology to both me and Grue. He was the kind of guy who had a pathological need to prove his dominance with stuff like pointless pissing contests and belittling rookies.

Still, even Connor knew what the end goal with Grue was. And luckily, he was professional enough not to fuck it up by making him feel unwelcome. Too unwelcome anyway; otherwise, I knew Brian would be smart enough to catch on.

Grue seemed to be grateful for me leaping to his defense. But also, even more, worried once the Cape, who according to all rumors had a flawless record in combat, had admitted that this particular undertaking could be dangerous. _Which it was, Hookwolf's the only one who was a fighter before getting his powers_.

"_MLG?_" He whispered to Newter as I pretended not to notice.

The Case-53 cracked one of his trademark grins, "Major League Gamer," he said with a glance at me, "and don't worry. Despite our boss' frankly worrying video game addiction, he won't start randomly jumping on enemies to prove a point like those two copycats who stream their fights." I felt kind of bad for stealing Über and Leet's gamer shtick. _But hey, I was planning on offering them employment after they realized everyone else thought they were losers, so, eh, it evens out_.

"Hey!" I interjected in mock offense, "I object to the addiction part, I can stop whenever I want."

"Sure, whatever you say, boss," Connor stated, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

"Hey boss, did you just quote Skidmark?" Newter questioned. Outwardly with complete seriousness but he couldn't hold his poker face as the others began laughing.

I laughed good-naturedly as well hell, even Grue loosened up and chuckled a bit.

The silence that ensued was unsurprisingly broken by Connor of all people, "In all seriousness, though, aren't you exaggerating about the difficulty a bit Glitch?" He asked, and all of our heads swiveled over towards the mirror so we could make a semblance of eye-contact with our driver. "I mean, I know it's Hookwolf, but come on, even Lung doesn't mess with you lightly."

"_No one messes with him lightly,_" Newter grumbled under his breath, but purposefully loud enough to be heard by Grue.

"I'm not," I said, "at least not for us Capes because Lung follows the Unwritten Rules. Sure, he's willing to make you _wish_ you were dead, but Hookwolf will actually kill you if given half the chance. The challenging part isn't in actually taking him down, but rather what could happen if we fuck up. Not to mention there's a real chance he won't be alone. Empire Mini-Bosses are always found in pairs, after all. Hookwolf being the occasional exception, but the keyword here is _occasional_."

That comment I could see made Grue very nervous, but the rest of us were as unfazed as if we were going grocery shopping. I didn't even bother to repress the flash of pride I felt at the scene. I had wanted my _Crew_ to become a team specialized in subduing other Capes as a sort of preparation so we could eventually tackle the Big Bad himself. And for all intents and purposes that was what we had become best at.

In the beginning, it was just Newter and me. I used my powers to fight and tire them out so he could get close enough to touch them and send them on their way to give Lucy and her diamonds the finger. Eventually, we diversified and became direct competitors to Faultline's Crew, albeit we categorically _refused_ to work for the Empire. And for this diversification, we hired a Non-Cape, who used to run with Marquis' gang and who was good at the aspects of jobs that didn't require combat. So good in fact that I wouldn't be surprised if Connor could give Über or Victor a run for their money when it came to lockpicking.

"Relax kid," Connor said, placing an arm around Grue's shoulder, which I could see nearly made him jump, "those two are in charge of actually fighting him, you're just there for crowd control." He emphasized the last part while idly pointing to one of the many teargas grenades Grue was in charge of using.

"Yeah, like I said, Hakuna Matata," Newter said with a wink, "despite the boss' demeanor, he's a big softie. Even if you're not technically a member of the shitty little Triumvirate we got going on here, he won't let you get shredded."

Grue's posture looked distinctly uncomfortable.

I sighed despondently and placed a hand on my mask. Mimicking a facepalm, "I really miss the good old days when you thought I'd kill you for accidentally deleting my save."

Newter chortled, "I almost thought you would, you were _so_ pissed."

"What do you expect?" I answered morosely, "I was _this_ close to finishing 'Demon's_ Souls_' when an orange sewer-monster saved over my progress and couldn't even beat the first boss."

Newter between the gales of laughter spoke in his defense, "H-hey, don't look at me. You still hadn't explained what a video game even was at the time. Hell, for the first few days living at your place, I thought your N-64 controller was some kind of weird sex toy."

I guffawed along with everyone else, including Grue, cigarette long forgotten and consigned back to non-existence.

Brian hardened his grip around the grenade launcher and began box breathing as his dad had taught him. He thought it necessary as he realized his nervousness may very well get him severely injured. Or maybe, if Newter was exaggerating about his boss' inclination to save him even killed. For his particular role, he swapped the helmet for a gas mask that '_Mr. Blonde'_ had given him, making his skin slightly visible. Something which only served to exacerbate his nerves, he'd heard rumors of what the Empire did to black Capes after all.

As he allowed his mind to wander in preparation for the signal, he scoffed at the codename they give the redheaded Irishman. "_Then again_," he thought, "_I suppose Mr. Orange was already taken by Newter._"

"Alright, boys, time to play some Wolfenstein!"

Glitch's excited battle cry pierced the air. Immediately Newter pulled on the rope attached to heavy metal doors and Brian began hammering the trigger launching canister after canister of teargas into one of Hookwolf's many dogfighting rings and extended his darkness inside the building. Some customers, most of which clearly skinheads ran out in a hurry. The disorientation from the darkness and the teargas making them akin to sitting ducks for Glitch's rifle once they emerged.

Gone was the jovial boss who had an obsession with Video Games and would joke around with his subordinates. Replaced by the cold focused killer, he was feared as being as he took potshots at them.

Apparently aiming for their heads.

He shivered from a genuine fear that had nothing to do with Hookwolf.

Saying that Glitch 'shook up' the Cape scene when he'd first shown up would be a massive overstatement, but that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. Unlike most, he didn't join the PRT or a Gang. Instead, he debuted by throwing Molotov cocktails at an E88 rally and stealing anything that caught his eye in the Art Gallery. Hell, he even forced the Mayor to strip at gunpoint and repurposed the fabric of the man's suit for his costume, which he convinced (probably threatened) Parian into making for him.

It was during that particular theft that he fought and defeated Armsmaster of all people with contemptuous ease. Putting him to sleep with a cannister of anesthetic gas and selling his Tinkertech by auctioning it off on PHO. _And of course, drawing several dicks on his visor with a sharpie and posting the pictures as part of his Cape Verification on the same site_.

What made him so terrifying to other Capes was not his evident skill at combat. Not entirely anyway, but also the fact that no one knew quite what his power or more likely _powers_ were. Everyone knew he could teleport and that he could pull out items from nowhere. So, the working hypothesis was that he had a weird amalgam of Oni Lee and Circus' powers.

Still, no one but him definitively knew his limits, and that scared Brian more than he'd like to admit. Because as he'd learned from experience bad information in this line of work _would_ result in injury. _Especially when fighting someone, you can't outrun like Glitch_.

But the thing that truly cemented his reputation as an unhinged madman to the other members of the Cape community was his willingness to ignore the Unwritten Rules.

Well, ignore was a strong word, he followed them to the letter; in fact, but he completely disregarded their spirit. "_You aren't allowed to kill Capes or use guns on them?"_ Alright, I'll only use guns and kill their non-powered subordinates. _What, you can't reveal someone's identity?_ Fine, I'll just purposefully damage their masks in combat, so they run away. "_You can't rape a female Cape while she's down?_" Fine, that makes sense. I'll just grope them while fighting to make them angrier.

Still, Brian or rather Grue agreed to work with the man's Crew. Because if they succeeded in this, they would not only get Hookwolf's bounty of 250k split four ways. But also, half that again from whoever was employing them to shut down Hookwolf's dogfighting rings.

_It's for Aisha, I'll join the PRT when she's with me_, he reminded himself. He forgot to do that far too often these days for his liking.

His train of thought was suddenly derailed by a howl. A howl followed by shrieking metal, which barreled through the entrance of the warehouse. Grue barely realized what he was looking at when he saw it, or rather him.

Hookwolf, without using his powers, didn't look like much. In fact, he looked like a redneck who rubbed grease over his inordinately large amount of chest hair and used a rusty piece of metal as a mask. _While using his powers, though?_

He looked like every third grader's attempt at drawing a stereotypical cartoon villain; a wolf literally made out of swords. It would've even been funny. _That is if said wolf made out of swords wasn't charging at me as fast as a moving car_.

He barely had time to react as Newter grabbed him by the arm and jumped high enough to earn the man a Mover-3 rating, almost dislocating Grue's shoulder in the process. The next thing he knew, he was lying face-up on a gravel roof. At the same time, Newter was overlooking the fight, which was ostensibly raging below.'Ostensibly' because Hookwolf was screaming in a rage with enough profanity to make a sailor blush.

"You alright?" Newter asked with an apologetic grin, though not taking his eyes of Hookwolf for a second.

"Yeah," Brian muttered and double-checked that his shoulder wasn't, in fact, dislocated and inched closer so he could get a look at the psychotic Capes fighting. Only to be disappointed when the only thing he saw was the Nazi Cape using one of his arms to thrash around. Probably hoping to hit Glitch, who was quietly standing in a corner. _Was he, was he on his phone?!_ While using the other hand or paw to furiously wipe at his face, producing a sound like nails on a chalkboard.

"What, what's he doing?" Grue asked unashamedly entranced by the display.

Newter raised one of his dark blue eyebrows, "Trying to get the acid off."

"Wait, Glitch threw acid at his face?!"

"Yup!" Newter exclaimed happily, "Severely hampers the whole visual aspect of fighting if you get my meaning."

"I thought you couldn't maim anyone under the Unwritten Rules…" he hedged cautiously. For all that Glitch was a homicidal maniac, he could see Newter often kept his boss in check and was smart enough to listen to reason.

"You can't," he replied, "at least not usually, but Hookwolf's escaped from his Birdcage transports twice now. Meaning if he's maimed, the Protectorate won't care too much, and the Empire has Othala if things get too bad."

The fight continued once Hookwolf got it together, and Glitch, in a manner more befitting of Oni Lee. Started teleporting around the Nazi while throwing more and more grenades at him.

Of course.

Grue could almost imagine the man's logic word for word. _Guns are banned, but no one ever said anything about Grenades, not like Oni Lee gets shit for it, does he_?

"You did good, Grue," Newter said, and Brian didn't even bother to respond. "I got to admit when Glitch explained exactly how useful your power would be, I was skeptical, but holy shit."

"Thanks," Brian muttered. He was unsure of what to say as he realized all of those corpses pooled at the entrance of the warehouse were _his_ fault. Sure, Glitch shot them, but he was the one who made them run out, he was the one-

A meaty three-fingered hand was placed on his shoulder. Newter was utterly ignoring the fight and looking at him with concern etched on his features, "It's not your fault." He said seriously.  
That was the last thing he needed to hear as he turned on his heel and looked for the fire escape.

"Dorothy Chisholm," Newter said, his voice lacking the mirth Brian had come to associate with him and even the appropriate seriousness of his boss. It sounded sad, broken even.

"What?" Brian asked, but he stopped.

"Dorothy Chisholm," Newter repeated, "She's the reason I joined up with Glitch."

Despite himself, Brian was interested, "_and_," he thought with a sigh, "_he's just trying to help._"

"Who is she?" Grue asked, and Newter ran a hand through his dyed hair.

"She _was_ a Cape groupie, so no one you would know," he began, "do you know the basics of what Case-53s go through? Cause otherwise, this is going to be one hell of a confusing story."

Grue nodded crisply, he did know. He had researched it extensively before agreeing to work with _Glitch's Crew_.

"Well, basically, I never got the chance to have my situation explained to me by the government, so I thought I was a monster. I stole food, I lived in the sewers and more often than not scared the living hell out of people that got close." He chuckled fondly, but an undertone of sadness was still there.

"Not her though, she was this teenage black girl. Walked up to me all nervous as I was eating some chicken wings, I'd fished out of a dumpster and asked me for my autograph." Newter laughed, "Can you believe it, there I was. A freak of nature who didn't know what or who he was. And someone wanted my autograph. I didn't even have a signature yet! So, I made one up and asked her why she wanted it, and then she explained the common knowledge about Case-53s. She kept coming around my sewer every so often. She was my first friend, and how I learned, I wasn't a monster." The last part was spoken quietly, almost hesitantly.

He didn't _know_ where it was going, but he could guess. "What happened to her?"

Newter scoffed, "Some prospective E88 members kicked her ass to prove themselves to Victor, I don't know if they were trying to kill her, but she didn't make it in the hospital. Glitch told me later that Panacea was home at the time."

"I'm sorry," _what else could he say?_

Newter laughed, but it was hollow, "Don't be, it's not your fault. Anyway, that's not the end of the story, after I found out I got angry. Real angry. I didn't know exactly what my powers did, but I wanted to kill some Skinheads."

Brian felt himself nod in sympathy, entranced at the view of what was one of if not the most unique private lives that a Cape in Brockton Bay had.

"So, I hear they're having a rally, and I go over, not sure about what I was going to do. That is until I see this guy dressed in a T-Shirt and probably the cheapest mask you could possibly buy, throwing Molotov cocktails at panicked Nazis. I'm all bummed out but grudgingly impressed, so I climb the building 'cause I want to get a closer look at the guy. To thank him, I suppose, and before I can get a word in edgewise, do you know what he says to me?"

Brain shook his head.

"Hey, you look too jaundiced to be a Nazi, want to join my guild?" Brian laughed, _that sounded exactly like something he'd say_.

"And you said yes to that?" He asked incredulously.

Newter snorted, "No, of course not I just left on the spot. But later, he kept visiting me in my sewer, challenging me to silly games like Rock-Paper-Scissors and claiming that when I'd lose, I'd have to join him. Long story short, he never won, and eventually, I realized that he was letting me win."

"Why?" That sounded nothing like Glitch. Über and Leet may have streamed their fights. But Glitch occasionally streamed himself playing Earth Aleph games, and Brian had rarely seen a more competitive person before.

"I asked him that myself," Newter said with an understanding look, "And he said, '_you looked sad, so I wanted to cheer you up, and nothing cheers me up like winning at a game_.'"

"That's…" he wanted to say that that was nothing like Glitch, but he didn't know him nearly as well as Newter, _so clearly it is_.

"That's when I joined him, he let me crash at his place, taught me martial arts and how to properly use my power. Now we fight for people who pay us to fight and steal things people pay us to steal. Though," he paused thoughtfully, "I guess if no one pays us, we steal anyway, but hey, details!"

Brian couldn't help himself; he laughed, a full guffaw coming from deep in his stomach. _This is so surreal_, he thought, _when's the last time I laughed like that?_

"So," the normal upbeat Newter interjected, but there was still a hint of concern in his voice, "don't torture yourself over people like that, trust me, they wouldn't do the same for you. But more importantly, don't feel sorry for them, you're disrespecting all the people they've wronged whom they've never felt sorry for."  
Brian nodded gratefully if still, a tad put out.

"Now, do you or do you not want to watch Hookwolf get his ass kicked?"

"Yes," Grue said with a smile, and though Newter couldn't see it, his smile widened in return, "I'd like that very much."

Both of them simultaneously neared the edge of the building, where they saw that Hookwolf crashing into the spot where his opponent presumably used to be. Glitch silently reappeared behind him with a-

"Newter?" Brian asked, staring at Glitch, holding the long sparkling steel spear hooked up to what looked like a car battery.

"Yes, Grue?" Newter responded as both Capes stared at the scene with looks of horrified fascination. The kind you would see on people gazing at but not bothering to stop an impending accident.

"Is your Boss going to shove a plasma torch up Hookwolf's ass?" Newter didn't have to respond. The incoherent howl of rage, pain, and if only because it would be funny if it was true _pleasure_. It managed to answer his question well enough.

Newter quickly swept Brian up bridal style and leaped off the roof to land near Hookwolf, who'd passed out, probably from the pain. The blades that made up his body were receding, and Newter flicked his tongue out at the man's exposed skin. Hookwolf's muscles twitched in agitation before relaxing completely.

"Nice work, boss," Newter said.

"You… too," Glitch responded, panting and probably slick with sweat, "I take it I wasn't invited for the nuptials?"

Brian blushed, not that they could see it, as Newter laughed and unceremoniously let him fall to the ground in a heap. Suddenly he could see Glitch stiffen and Newter following in due course.

"Armsmaster and Miss Militia are about to show up in three minutes give or take probably along with some PRT troopers, call Mr. Blonde, and tell him to meet us at the Loft." He said seriously, his tone not brokering delay or much less, disagreement.

Newter nodded and did as he was told, though neither of them seemed to be in a rush. Despite his instincts screaming at him to flee the scene as fast as possible, he now trusted Newter and knew he should defer to the pair of more experienced villains. And besides, he didn't want to leave Hookwolf's carcass behind and let all this work be for nothing.

"Shouldn't we be heading out?" He asked, instead.

"Yeah, just give me a second," Glitch answered, getting his breath under control before laying a hand on Hookwolf's body. With the sound of a sucking vacuum, it promptly disappeared.  
Brian jumped.

"Relax, Grue," Newter said after finishing his phone call. "He has a Pocket Room like Circus where time is frozen, people can enter it if they want to or are knocked out, or dead too, I suppose."

"Yeah, now come on," Glitch said urgently, extending a hand, "we should skedaddle. I really don't feel up to fighting Halbeard and Miss Milf right now."

Grue gulped audibly.

He could practically _feel_ Glitch rolling his eyes in the same way he could _see_ Newter rolling his before he vanished. Presumably into the Pocket Room.  
_I'm fucked anyway if they catch me_, he thought. He summoned up his courage, grasped his employers' hand and-

And the next thing he knew, he was sitting on a perfectly comfortable white couch inside of what of a sparsely decorated living room. Newter was quietly nursing a beer, _Corona,_ Brian noted, with an animated smile on his face recounting the fight to Mr. Blonde while Glitch occasionally threw his two cents in. He looked around for a bit but tried not to make it obvious that he'd woken up. Most of the walls were red brick and a few of the windows of the building were boarded up. Distantly Grue could smell the ocean, _abandoned Warehouse near the docks then_.

He could also notice quite a few pieces of furniture, most of which looked extremely worn, but well taken care of. _They probably took them from the street and fixed them up_, he thought. It was almost funny that they did something kind of admirable like that because Glitch almost definitely stole the many large Arcade machines that littered the room.

Hanging on the wall directly opposite him was a poster with a dark outline of a woman wearing a suit and fedora, the words "My Goddess Looks Like Carmen Sandiego," were written bellow with a permanent marker. He took a closer look at the brick walls and actually laughed at the dissonance when he realized that most of the fine art that formerly hung in the Museum was now proudly on display in a place where it had no business being in.

Only with the laughter did Glitch notice he was awake, "Sorry, Grue, the first time in my Inventory kind of messes with people, you were out of it for about ten minutes." He said sort of sheepishly while tossing him an Eidolon backpack clearly meant for kids that had the words 'You too are a Hero!' boldly printed under the face of the Founder. _And isn't that just the textbook definition for irony_?

"We'll take Hookwolf to the Police Station to collect his bounty tomorrow, but for now that's your cut from our client, should be 31250 bucks, you can count it out if you want-"

"No," Grue cut him off, "no, it's fine. I trust you, _boss_." _Strange as that is to say_.

"Listen, Grue, I already told you, don't-" Glitch began but was cut off when Newter punched him in the shoulder. Glitch seemed utterly blindsided by the action for a moment. "Oh," but only for a moment as he spoke in dawning realization, "Oh, you want to join us?"

"I wouldn't be averse to it, but I have some questions." Frankly, this independent stuff was getting kind of old, mostly doing odd jobs for other supervillains.

He didn't like to think about it, but he had no real plan if he got severely injured or if his identity was outed. And his usual clientele wasn't the most trustworthy. Glitch and Newter, at least from what he'd seen so far, wouldn't leave him out to dry.

The pair had been operating for a little over two years now, meaning they had more experience than he did. And they were obviously tough enough to contend with the toughest Capes the Bay had to offer.

"Bold of you to assume we want you here." Glitch's sharp voice was like a bucket of ice-cold water. Suddenly he was reminded of the fact that he was a newbie villain with a power that wasn't that useful for combat in a team while trying to join what was mostly a Cape PMC.

In short, he felt like he'd just applied for a management position with a very shitty CV and was being interviewed by a hard-ass CEO. _If that CEO could kill you in the blink of an eye anyway_.

"I-I," he stuttered out but was interrupted by Newter who'd come back from another room, _probably the Kitchen_, with more beers.

"Oh, come off it, Glitch. With the way you were going on about his power's potential uses the other day... Well, I almost thought you wanted to suck his dick instead of hiring him," he said, rolling his eyes. Mr. Blonde half chuckled, and half nodded in agreement.

Glitch looked, for lack of a better word, shell-shocked at the proceedings before a massive sigh escaped him, "Yes, thank you for that, and here I wanted to negotiate properly."

The Case-53 shrugged unrepentantly.

Glitch turned to him and flippantly said: "No, we don't have a dental plan or a 401k,"  
Brian was taken aback by the man's sudden change in demeanor, Mr. Blonde seemed to have picked up on it as he silently mouthed '_you get used to it_.'

"Not what I was planning on asking, but good to know," Grue said drily, "my question actually concerned my yearly salary."

"That…" Glitch began and reached a hand to rub his chin in thought, momentarily forgetting he was wearing a mask, "varies considerably. Keep in mind we work by commission, and the number of jobs we do get tends to vary. To be fair, though, we are on retainer for one of the minor Villains in the Bay. So, we do have a steady income of about 10 grand a month total, so at least 2.500 grand a month, and that's without any extra jobs."

"Which villain if I may ask?" Grue was positive it wasn't Kaiser, but he hadn't heard of Glitch ever fighting the Merchants, and he didn't want to be contractually attached to those scumbags.

"Coil." Glitch answered simply

Grue had to wrack his brain for information on the villain, coming up with nothing at all. Glitch must've noticed as he elaborated.

"First of all, he's a paranoid bastard, so don't go spreading this shit around. But he's a minor player by the docks, fancies himself a sort of chess master. No one knows whether or not he has powers, but he definitely has the most well-trained and equipped NPCs. Most members of his gang are ex-military, and they carry Tinkertech rifles. Some friendly advice if you ever go up against him. Be _extremely_ careful, ever since he showed up, he hasn't suffered one major setback, and that's saying something in Brockton."

Grue processed the information, "Can he be trusted to pay on time?"

Glitch, Newter, and 'Mr. Blonde' all shared a brief glance, "He wires the money to our accounts individually, and at least in my case, he's never missed a day." Newter stated.  
Both the other members nodded their assent, the old man, seemingly without a stake in the conversation seemed to be staring into space.

"What does that entail exactly, having us on retainer?"

"It means," Mr. Blonde began, "that we're strongly encouraged to accept any job he gives us. And if he gives us a job while we have another contract, we should drop the other one if he pays the same or more."

"Also, we can't harm him or his, but considering how most people don't even know about him, it's not a problem," Newter added, and Glitch nodded at the explanation.

"Alright," he took a deep audible breath. Decisions like these can make or break Cape careers, "There's one more thing I need to know, but it'll only make sense if I explain something from my personal life."

"Juicy," Glitch said, steepling his fingers together and leaning forwards, "don't worry, we can keep a secret." The gesture filled Brian with the opposite of confidence, but he knew his prospective boss was doing it on purpose. _Probably_.

"I'm sort of about to be locked in a custody battle, and I need to prove to the court that I have a steady income if I'm going to win, so I need some kind of legal income."

Newter wolf-whistled, "Wow, I didn't think you'd be the kind of guy to knock someone up at your age."

Grue shook his head, slightly embarrassed, "It's my sister, actually, our family situation… isn't the best…"

Glitch put up a hand. "You don't have to explain even if you join, private stuff can stay private as far as I'm concerned so long as it doesn't affect your performance in the field. Still, as far as your salary goes…" He trailed off, before sharply turning towards the older man, "Hey Connor, do you think your uncle can 'employ' him as a cook?"

"What do I look like?" The now named 'Connor' asked rhetorically, "Your money-launderer?"

"Well, all things considered…" Newter muttered.

"Yup," Glitch said, nodding his head, "That's exactly what you look like, and don't let a lawyer tell you otherwise."

"I get no goddamn respect around here. Alright, kid congrats, you're a chef now." The Irishman said sarcastically but boasted a small grin on his features.

"Does that mean...?"

"Yeah, I'd say it does," Newter said, saluting with his mug of beer.

"Welcome, I'm glad you decided to join us," Glitch said simply, and Grue saw one part of his mask click open with a sharp hiss. "I suppose we should introduce ourselves properly…" Glitch continued cheerfully while removing his creepy mask. His new boss had a genuine though small smile plastered on his pale face, it was all Brian could do to hide the flinch at seeing the rest of his features.

Glitch without his mask was somehow even creepier with it on.

He was a disheveled-looking older teen who sported large dark bags under his blue eyes. Eyes that glinted with a sort of craziness you'd only see among the more unhinged Capes in the bay and when he spoke, it attracted attention to his lips. Lips that were scuffed and chipped from what was probably excessive picking or chewing. What surprised Brian the most, however, was his skin or rather its color. He half expected Glitch to be black, but truth be told his features were so characteristically Aryan to the point where his mind subconsciously associated them with Empire thugs he'd rather avoid on the street. _He probably dyed his hair too_, Brian thought with a small frown, his boss' dark hair somehow didn't mesh with everything else and he'd bet every dollar he'd earned today that his boss had some history with the Empire, _maybe they tried to forcibly recruit him because he looked like one of them?_

"Oh, can I do the thing?" Newter asked in the same giddy fashion one would expect a child to ask whether or not he could open his Christmas presents seemingly completely oblivious to Brian's reaction and thoughts.

"I don't see why not." Glitch answered with a sigh, "Just refrain from trolling Grue too much, he might yet decide to leave once he realizes how much it actually sucks here." _That was probably a joke._

Newter rolled his eyes at what he probably saw as an unnecessary remark and then proceeded to loudly clap his hands to get everyone's, but more specifically Grue's attention. "Alright, so the boss showed me this tradition for team members to introduce themselves to each other when they first meet. You start by unmasking and saying your full name, then list some of your likes, dislikes, hobbies, your goals for the future and lastly explain your powers to the best of your ability, get it?"

Grue nodded, he was honestly kind of impressed. It seemed like a pretty efficient system to quickly get all the information across that one would need to know in order to trust your team members. Instead of waiting for it to be shared by a gradual if more organic process during the weeks it would presumably take, by which time it might be too late if problems arise. Newter said it was a tradition, _was Glitch a member of another group before? Was he an E88 member, and if so, what the hell happened?_

"I'll go first to demonstrate," Newter said with an all-too-grandiose flourish and Brian felt himself smile. The Case-53's enthusiasm could be truly infectious. "I'm a Case-53 so the name's just Newter, I like pranking people, sleeping with freaky girls who want to see what a Case-53's like in the sack." Brian blushed, and Glitch snorted at that particular remark. Newter continued speaking regardless. "My hobbies include beating Glitch at any and all video games…"

The statement was naturally followed by Glitch's indignant grumble about unfair superhuman reflexes and Newter giving him the finger in turn, "I dislike Nazis and people who judge by appearance. My goal for the future is to find out where Case-53s come from and as for my powers…" Newter trailed off, "well, you probably already know the basics, all of my body fluids are like LSD on steroids, yes even the one you're thinking of," he added with a wink and Brian despite himself imagined what sex with Newter must be like if that was the case, "also, I have a few minor Brute and Mover capabilities, basically like a monkey with really good reflexes as our supreme leader oh so kindly points out almost every day."

"Go fuck yourself Newter," Glitch intoned monotonously, but there was no heat behind his gaze and the small smile never left his face.

Newter shrugged and said, "Well boss, is that an order? Because I'm sure I could figure something out with my anatomy…"

Connor burst out laughing, only to be joined by himself a few moments later, Glitch staying stonily silent throughout it all, but he looked vaguely amused.

"Ok, ok," Glitch began as his fit of laughter died down and pointed at the Irishman, "Your turn, otherwise we're going to be here all night."

Mr. Blonde, no, Connor shook Brian's hand in a firm grip with a terse expression, uncomfortably reminding him of his father, but he pushed those thoughts aside. "The name's Connor Sullivan. I enjoy Earth Aleph documentaries and my hobbies include brewing beer and doing Magic Tricks. I'm not a Parahuman and my dream… I guess I'd like to see my old boss one more time, that's Marquis by the way," he added casually but was clearly bragging.

"You used to work for Marquis?" _How high up the totem pole were you?_ Went unsaid.

"Yeah, I was just a dealer though, but Marquis," he said nostalgically, "Marquis was something else. I only joined up with these two losers when they saved my Uncle the trouble of getting mugged and I haven't felt fulfilled ever since."

"Yeah, yeah," Glitch muttered, "sorry I can't give you a _boner_ like Marquis."

Newter and Connor both groaned and it took a moment for the frankly terrible pun to register for Brian, but when it did, he joined his compatriots in their lamentations.

"Wow, really not even a chuckle?" Glitch asked rhetorically and the groans of frustration only increased. "Huh, tough crowd." Glitch muttered clicking his tongue.

"You're putting your introduction off Boss," Newter grumbled good-naturedly, but even through his sky-blue inhuman eyes, there was something in his gaze that Brian couldn't quite identify.

"Alright, alright," Glitch said rolling his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Good to meet you, Grue," he started with an exaggerated bow, "My name's Johan Liebert and please for the love of all that is good and holy don't call me Joe."

Brian snorted and feeling extremely brave at that moment teasingly replied, "Sure, Joe."

Glitch groaned as if in physical pain and both Newter and Connor chortled at their boss' misfortune.

"At any rate," he continued, "I like Cooking, Anime and Earth Aleph media in general. My hobbies include playing Video Games-"

"_An excessive amount of Video Games,_" Newter interjected quietly but was ignored.

"and practicing Martial Arts." _So, we at least have some common interests_, Brian thought. "I dislike Nazis as well and as for my future goals…" He trailed off before gaining a determined glint in his eyes, "I want to get _World First_ on the final boss of _Outside_."

Connor coughed, "Mind translating for us non-virgins, boss?" Gl-, Johan glared. Without the mask it was Johan, Brian would have to get used to that.

Despite the question, Johan proceeded as if Connor hadn't said anything. Still, knowing his new boss it probably wasn't important. He was almost definitely talking about some really difficult video game he wanted to get an achievement in or something like that. _Though maybe I should start learning some gamer-lingo so Newter doesn't have to constantly translate…_

"My powers are very simple," he said smugly breaking Brian out of his momentary reverie and summoning a large golden coin while rolling it around his knuckles all the while. "They allow me to create anything I want in limited amounts."

"Bullshit." The word escaped him before he could stop himself, but to his surprise, none of the people at the table were angry that he was accusing Johan of lying if anything they all looked smug.

"Oh, how so?" Glitch asked with a knowing smile, further highlighting the state of his lips.

"Well, you can teleport, and you have some kind of Pocket Dimension. So, you just store shit and _pretend_ you can create them, don't you?" Brian asked a tad more hesitantly especially as Newter chuckled, clearly at his expense.

"You got it backwards," Johan explained seriously, "I _pretend_ I can teleport and have a Pocket Dimension I can store stuff in and pull stuff out of, but I'm just a very powerful Shaker. Shaker 12 if I had to give myself a rating."

"That doesn't explain, how you can teleport or made me disappear," Brian said more forcefully than he'd intended.

"It does if you pay attention," Johan said in a sing-song manner, "I said I could create _anything_ in limited amounts, that includes a Pocket Dimension, it was your mistake to assume I was limited to material things."

_What the fuck?_ "Ok, even if that _were_ true, how on Earth can you teleport?"

Johan's smile widened, "I create more time."

"What?" Brian asked quietly, completely focused and dumbfounded at the same time.

Glitch nodded, picking up his glass and letting it fall to the ground. Suddenly the area around him turned gray, stopping just short of his side of the table. The glass stopped in mid-air, but Glitch could still move as demonstrated by his waving his hands around in a '_spooky_' manner. Grue would've been uncomfortably reminded of Gray Boy had he not been entranced by the casual demonstration of a power the Ancient Greek gods would've killed for.

Johan continued speaking even after the effect faded and he effortlessly caught the glass, "I can freeze or slow time in a pretty large area, though the more I slow it down, the area I can do it in gets smaller. So, like I said anything I want in a limited amount."

"So, that's why you're tired after teleporting. You actually have to run!" Brian said in realization. Glitch's teleportation was a subject of hot debate on PHO boards dedicated to him and presumably among Parahuman Experts too, as no other known Mover power made the user tired.

Johan nodded approvingly, "Yup, my Cooldown for that is also pretty shit if I completely pull a full-on Za Warudo, so I mostly slow it down _just_ enough so that it seems like I'm teleporting."

"So, wait." Brian understood exactly none of that sentence but decided to press on with his more important questions, "Does that mean you can basically use every Shaker power ever on top of _freezing time_?!"

Glitch nodded with a large, some would even call it a deranged smile on his face. "Now you're getting it." He said and punctuated it by enveloping the room in the same darkness that Brian used, he quickly made it disappear and elaborated. "There are some limits, however, I can _create_ anything, not manipulate it after its inception beyond making disappear again and I'm always the epicenter of what I create. So, I can't say, for example, make a giant piano fall on top of someone like in a Looney Toons Cartoon unless I'm above them."

Grue nodded, _so Glitch wasn't just a flat-out god then_, "But then if you can create darkness like me, why did you hire me in the first place?"

"He can create it," Newter said, "but he can't see through it like you can and that's a problem, since he's inside it once he creates a lot of it."

"Oh," Brian muttered pondering the implications of what was probably the strongest and frankly strangest power he'd ever encountered.

"There are a few more limits," Glitch added, "I can't create other powers or things that don't exist, so, for example, I can recreate Tinkertech like this." he said casually, and Brian used that term very loosely here, summoning what he immediately recognized as Armsmaster's Halberd, _ok what the fuck had he gotten himself into?_

"But I can't just magic up some potential Tinkertech that no one has built yet. The same goes for very vague things, like 'Health' I can't just will my power to create 'Healing' or 'Health' and fix up my injuries that way."

As he processed the implications of Johan's power, he could only come to one conclusion, "That's Bullshit."

Johan raised a somewhat bewildered yet unimpressed eyebrow. Brian's cheeks darkened. "I mean, not in the sense that I don't believe you. It's just that-"

Glitch cut him off with a chuckle, "Yeah, I get what you mean. My ability is really OP, but hey them's the brakes. The first rule of Parahumans, powers are bullshit."

Connor nodded emphatically at this and Newter shrugged in tacit agreement.

Brian nodded and bit back a million questions he wanted to ask about Johan's power. But there was one thought that had absolutely nothing to do with it. _There's no going back now_, but honestly, he didn't even want to, because now he knew his Boss was possibly the strongest Shaker on the planet. A Shaker who could tango with the strongest Capes in the Bay and _sandbag_ against them like there was no tomorrow. He removed the gas mask to reveal his face.

"My name's Brian Laborn," he began, "I like…" _what do I like?_ "Martial Arts and my Sister. I dislike irresponsible parents and druggies, I guess. I practice boxing and work out at my gym and sample coffee around town. And I guess you already know both my goal and my power."

To his immense surprise, everyone clapped at his introduction.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter I: Acid-Base

_"It's all just bullshit cops and robbers." He said shaking his head, "You see Newter and Lisa think I agreed to work for Coil despite him being a horrible person because he paid well, the truth is I agreed to work for him because he was the only one who was playing to win."_

"Truly, I'm disappointed." Glitch said, putting on the airs of a father scolding a rebellious teenager who'd been caught stealing from the liquor cabinet _again_. He was failing miserably, of course; his barely concealed snickers didn't lend themselves to being taken seriously, and neither did the fact that he was still clearly listening to _his_ _fucking Earth Aleph Podcast_ while he spoke.

Brian didn't even make the most minute effort to resist the urge to flip his _very dangerous_ boss, the bird. He'd crossed that particular threshold after the second time Johan made him complete what Newter aptly referred to as 'Satan's_ Obstacle Course_,' and _that_ was still during the first month after his recruitment, half a year later? Well, if Brian didn't recognize the fact that his combat abilities had improved by leaps and bounds... Let's just say he probably would've already tried to murder the boss with the same high voltage tasers he'd incorporated into his fighting style at his insistence, _if only for the irony_.

He allowed the mass of darkness to recede from his body, making his sweat-slickened face visible and his panting audible to his sadistic SOB of a trainer. Of course, the snickers only increased in both volume and frequency.

"Come on, Grue, that's enough for today," Glitch said through the chuckles, tossing him a bottle of Gatorade that Brian barely managed to catch, "go take a shower and meet back here in thirty."

"Why?" He asked, confused and understandably so, seeing as this was the only time, he'd received such a request after training. Usually, it was more along the lines of, "_Go home and rest, it'll get harder tomorrow scrub._"

At first, the training had been a welcome surprise, even more so when he found out he was already much further ahead than Newter had been when he'd started. Glitch had deemed his hand to hand to be up to snuff and had even congratulated him on his foresight because he was one of the few independents who'd bothered to learn First Aid before debuting. The man himself phrased it in a much more inelegant yet somehow more accurate manner, of course.

"_You know how to throw a punch, and you have the rarest thinker power of them all… Common Sense. Meaning we can move on with the real meat of the training._"

"_Oh, and what's that?_" He'd asked. He almost wanted to laugh at the naïveté of his past self. He had actually been excited for this hell on earth!

"I'm_ going to teach you what makes a supervillain super._" Glitch had answered matter-of-factly, a delivery that belied the sadism that hid behind his sharp blue eyes.

"_And how's that?_" In retrospect, Brian should've known it would be downhill from there because the smile that Glitch gave him in answer wasn't pleasant by any stretch of the word. It was, in fact, a manic grin that, due only in part to the man's cracked lips, would've been right at home with groups like the Slaughterhouse Nine.

"I'm_ going to break you,_" Glitch said seriously with the same excited smile, "_then fix you_," the excitement dimmed slightly at that part, "_then break you again. Rinse and repeat until you stop breaking._"

And, credit where credit is due, the man had done just that. He'd deemed Brian's hand to hand 'good enough,' but that hadn't stopped Glitch from forcing him to learn more human anatomy than most chiropractors knew. And he taught it under the threat of corporal punishment. Before meeting Glitch, he'd broken a bone once, after forgetting how to most effectively target the larynx Johan had mercilessly crushed both of his pinky toes in quick succession. _To be fair_, Brian thought with a barely visible grimace, _I never forgot anything after that_.

His boss also began teaching him his own flow-counter martial art that even Newter had adopted for himself, though the orange Case-53 had to bastardize it due to his tail. It was an odd yet instrumental mix between Krav Maga, Muay Thai, and Eskrima that looked like something Crane the Harmonious might have put together in her off-hours.  
The Filipino martial art was especially crucial to him as Glitch also insisted on a complete 180 to Brian's fighting style so he could fight alongside the rest of the team without blinding them, a change that included the use of weapons.

To better accomplish this feat, he'd modeled Brian's new fighting style after a Japanese villain named Kurogiri, who'd died during the sinking of Kyushu. And had possessed a Shaker/Mover ability that, while not precisely similar to Brian's, did have some parts that were applicable when it came to direct combat. Now, instead of blanketing an entire area in darkness or making black smoke rise around him as an intimidation tactic, Brian or rather Grue constantly cloaked himself in a vaguely humanoid-shaped cloud of shadows. Completely obscuring his own body and making him seem much larger than he really was. This not only made his opponents miss more often than not since they were aiming for 'limbs' that weren't really there, but also allowed him to strike out with his Eskrima Sticks from where his opponents least expected it. He snorted internally at the thought. Nobody_ expects to be hit with a taser coming out of an ass cheek_.

He was also slowly learning how to make 'clones' of himself with his shadows, he couldn't really move them freely though, and they wouldn't stand up to any kind of scrutiny that wasn't clouded by the heat of battle, but he _had_ managed to beat Newter with that tactic a couple of times in the ring! An impressive feat, because while he laughed along with everyone else when the boss complained about the Case-53 being '_completely and utterly hax!_' it was real that his superhuman strength and reflexes were no joke.

His free-running had also improved markedly. Mostly evidenced by the fact that he could complete most of the obstacle courses Glitch made for him in under a few minutes. And, more importantly, that his bowels no longer contracted in unadulterated horror every time he had to jump a gap between two buildings. But then again, he wasn't sure if that was due to him overcoming the fear of heights that all humans inherently possessed or if it was because both Glitch and Newter chased him with Paintball guns through the obstacle courses and he'd get hit if he didn't jump. Still-

"We have a meeting with a quest-giver." Glitch's excited voice stopped his reverie cold. His ever-present manic grin was still plastered over his face, but there was a hint of seriousness. By now, Brian had mastered enough gamer-lingo to understand why _we're meeting a client_.

"Who?" Brian couldn't help but ask. Working in the Crew wasn't what he expected. For a start, the jobs were few and far between, so each member supplemented their own income doing odd jobs on the side.  
Newter sold his spit to the Merchants, Glitch had his live streams, and Connor, well he didn't _know_ what the Irishman did and honestly, he didn't really feel like asking. Most of the jobs that they did were ones that individual members of the Crew, usually Connor, proposed, and then everyone collectively agreed to undertake. The profits were naturally split equally afterward. Brian… didn't have a side-job, so he really looked forward to the times when Connor did some rumor digging, and they would usually hit minor gangs or random stores.

This, however, was something else. If Brian didn't count the Hookwolf job, which was commissioned by Coil, this would be the first commissioned job Brian would undertake as part of the Crew, _assuming we actually get a 'quest.'_

"Lung." Glitch answered absently, face set in a neutral expression.

_Wait, what?_ "Wait, what?!" Honestly, he was the very soul of eloquence.

Glitch nodded absentmindedly.

"You mean the leader of the ABB, '_I fight Endbringers one on one_,' that Lung?"

"No," Glitch said deadpan, "I meant the organ that helps us breathe."

Brian sighed, "You don't have to be a dick about it, I'm just asking why he would hire us."

Glitch tilted his head, and his expression changed to one of puzzlement as if he was a bird that couldn't figure out what he was seeing, _or in this case hearing_.

"I mean Coil's one thing," he started explaining, "like you said, it's up for debate whether he even has powers or not. But Lung is borderline S-Rank, and Oni-Lee's only slightly below that, why does he need us?"

"You'd be surprised. Lung's actually our second-best native client after Coil." Newter answered with a shrug from behind them, and both their heads swiveled over towards the Case-53. Newter was wearing his costume, which consisted of a dark blue Kevlar vest over a black wifebeater and a pair of grey tactical pants. All of which would do little to camouflage him, given his bright orange skin, but Brian supposed it did make him look more professional.

"Yes," Glitch continued with a nod, "you're right in that the ABB has a lot of powerhouses, but subtlety isn't exactly their thing, so they hire us for jobs that require a less collateral-damage touch."  
Brian snorted.

"Lung's always such an asshole about it, though," Newter complained while stretching loudly. "He always tries to haggle like a used-car salesman."

"More like an old school Japanese salaryman who can burn you to a crisp," Glitch corrected lightly, shrugging off his sweatshirt and picking up another Gatorade.

"Anything I should know before we meet him?" He asked casually, but if the muted chuckles he could hear emanating from Newter were any indication, his efforts at seeming blasé about meeting '_The Dragon of Kyushu'_ weren't panning out too well.

"Just two things, I guess." Glitch began either not noticing or completely ignoring his subordinate's state of mind. "The first is just generally don't be rude, the second is reach for your own tea first, don't expect the host to invite you."

He blinked, "That's it?"

"Yeah, he's an asshole," Newter repeated, gesturing with his hand in a 'so-so' motion, "but compared to some of the other crazies we've dealt with outside of the Bay he's a pretty reasonable asshole."

Glitch hummed his agreement, "The drinks thing isn't even that important either, but he likes it when people stick to East Asian customs, and that's an easy way to show him you at least cared enough to do some research."

"Wait for a second," Newter quickly exclaimed before Brian could finally march off to the showers, "I have an amazing idea." He completed chuckling to himself all the while.

"What, you want me to replicate Lung a bottle of Sake or something?" Glitch asked, seemingly mulling the thought over.

"No," Newter corrected and looked towards Brian, "You need to keep your civvie safe at all costs for your sister, right? Well, since this _is_ your first real big debut…"

* * *

"I was not aware your new member was also a Case-53," Kenta began leadingly while unashamedly staring at said new member. The Cape seemed to be entirely made out of shadows and hadn't spoken a word since Glitch's Crew had arrived at Jade Dragon.

"You wouldn't be," Glitch returned with a nod, "he only joined up relatively recently, before he worked as an independent and since his power allows him to shift into a more humanoid form. Our new member usually used that to draw less attention; this is the form he's most comfortable in, though."

The shadows shifted in a facsimile of a nod; it might have even been cute had the sight not registered with Kenta as being fundamentally _wrong_. Wrong because while one could describe Grue as a living shadow, it was far more accurate to describe him as a living void, it was like looking at nothing and that in it of itself was, if only subconsciously, terrifying.

"I see, Grue, is it? It's always good to meet a fellow Changer, tell me, do your powers also get stronger during a fight like my own?" His attempt at gaining information was the furthest thing from subtle. Yet, even with all the subtlety in the world, he knew that any Cape professional enough to be a part of Glitch's Crew wouldn't be forthcoming with any information, _especially for free_. But he wanted to build some kind of rapport with them, have quickly found out that if he didn't, their prices would rise accordingly, and… it would be a lie to say he wasn't inquisitive about the newest Case-53's power set.

Grue for lack of a better word looked bewildered, and the silence grew tense as he refused to answer a direct question, if even with meaningless platitudes, _in my territory_.

An obviously feigned cough cut the tension like a hot knife through butter, the Thinker of the group a Mr. Blonde interjecting with, "Apologies sir, but I'm afraid our new member's form precludes verbal communication. If he had something to write with, I'm sure he'd be happy to answer, but-"

"-But," Newter, the other Case-53 of the group interrupted, "I'm afraid his answer will disappoint you; he can't ramp up like you, but he can grow in size at will, though not nearly as much as Fenja and her sister."

Lung nodded. He _wanted_ to ask whether his strength also grew proportionally. Still, it was unlikely they'd be more forthcoming with any information. After all, he only learned this much by pretending to be insulted.

"How long has he been a member?" He tried a different track, something which would actually be slightly more relevant to the matter at hand.

"A little over half a year," Glitch answered, tilting his hand in a so-so motion, "though I can guarantee he's as good as the rest of us, if not better."

Kenta's eyes involuntarily strayed towards Newter, and the orange teen shrugged in seeming confirmation. "I see," Lung added finally, "I hope that's true. I'd hate for him to get hurt; you know what happens to people who disappoint me." Glitch knew it firsthand too. The two Capes had only ever fought _once_, and while Lung got to experience being drenched in liquid nitrogen more times than he cared to admit, it was the mercenary who'd had to retreat in the end after his right arm had been badly burned.

One of the reasons he both liked and hated the man simultaneously, Lung reflected, was his imperviousness to threats. Most people, including his fellow gang leaders, would've to shit themselves at the mere thought of gaining his ire, and even if they didn't, villains, generally speaking, had to react to threats by swinging their dicks around, so they didn't seem weak. Glitch, however, let everything short of a physical attack slide off him like water off the back of a duck. Thus, it was no surprise that his thinly veiled threat was answered by a lackadaisical shrug. "I invite you to judge his performance for yourself if you give us the job, but just so you know he _is_ the primary reason why Hookwolf's capture went as smoothly as it did, and that was before he'd joined."

By which of course, Glitch meant the by now infamous disappearance of the E88 Cape in broad daylight with absolutely no witnesses and many, many corpses. A removal that Glitch had taken credit for by dropping the man off at the curb of the PRT Building while the Nazi was barely alive a day later. It was brave, some would even say stupid of the man to bring it up, as it _did_ kickstart a brief Gang War between his ABB and the E88. The latter, of course, thinking he was the one to hire the mercenaries to dispose of Hookwolf. It was not an unfounded assumption; Lung had hired the group to patrol around his territory before when he'd been briefly incapacitated by the Flu, and he did stand to gain much by having the largest provider of underground dogfighting rings removed from the Bay.

But it _wasn't_ him who had hired them. And if this mysterious Villain or, if some of the nuttier PHO conspiracy theorists were right, mysterious Hero who had hired Glitch to dispose of Hookwolf struck again, it could prove catastrophic to the tenuous balance which the three significant gangs had settled into recently. It was, after all, a balance that Lung grudgingly needed to maintain as the last Gang War hadn't exactly done wonders for his ranks.

"Indeed?" Kenta asked semi-rhetorically in lieu of having something of substance to say. There was no way he was airing out _those_ particular thoughts in front of them after all. "If that is the case, then please accept my compliments, your job was masterfully done, and I am thankful to have such a troublesome opponent removed from the playing field." _Not exactly a lie yet not exactly the complete truth either_.

"Honest praise," Newter muttered with a small look of surprise.

"And we'll accept it graciously," Glitch completed with a small bow. The conversation briefly lulled into a comfortable silence, but it was quickly broken when the mercenaries' leader turned to look around the little alcove where they were seated. "I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with this restaurant; do we order or is there a set-"

Lung held up a hand, and instantly there was peace and quiet, a welcome change from his own subordinates. A change because Glitch's Crew, no matter how much it irked him to admit it, was professional, unlike his own ABB, except for Lee. It almost reminded him of his Yakuza days, even. Though in those days, he wasn't the one shutting other people up. "Do not concern yourself, I already ordered for all five of us."

A look of distaste passed over the orange Case-53's face. However, it disappeared as quickly as it came, Grue was as inscrutable as he'd been since the beginning of the meeting, Mr. Blonde either didn't notice his unsubtle powerplay or more likely just didn't care and Glitch? Well, Glitch meanwhile made a showing of looking around and sniffed the air loudly, or at least loud enough to be heard beyond the confines of his elaborate Tinkertech mask. "Thank you," he said earnestly.

Kenta raised both eyebrows, no one had ever thanked him as Lung _or_ _Kenta for that matter_ for a very, very long time and much less for a power play. "For what?" he asked cautiously.

"Your order," Glitch replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I could be mistaken but given the smell I take it you ordered some Pu'er Tea for us, though I do hope it's fermented, I can only stand caffeine in Coffee if I'm honest."

Lung blinked owlishly in surprise at the mercenary for a few moments, he didn't even notice that Glitch's two subordinates who had the required anatomy were doing much the same. "You know your teas," he finally said.

A low chuckle answered his unspoken query, "I know enough to tell when a host is gracious. And I can tell that this place is of superb quality, so, as I said before, thank you, it has been a while since I've had good _hēichá._"

"Ni hui shuo zhongwen ma?" Lung asked excitedly despite himself.

"Sorry, I don't speak Mandarin," Glitch answered with a shake of the head in English, "I know enough to ask for the bathroom or the nearest train station, swear words, that sort of thing."

_Of course, he doesn't_, Lung thought with a flash of disappointment which he quickly quashed, _if Glitch did, he probably would've spoken it when I first hired him_. "No apologies necessary, though I must say that your pronunciation is perfect for a foreigner, might I ask where you picked it up?"

"Being cussed at by Chinese gamers online probably," Newter spoke without prodding for the first-time, making Mr. Blonde snort in good humor and Grue move in a way that probably indicated amusement. Glitch himself tilted his head as if to say, '_there you go_.'

Lung snorted, and as the food arrived, he had to admit the ensuing conversation was relatively free-flowing, though only in a 'what's_ new in Brockton Bay'_ sort of way. The only exception to this was a brief yet fairly interesting tangent on the nutritional requirements of Case-53s as he realized that Grue could consume food as well, swallowing everything into the mass of shadows, including the plates only to regurgitate what he either couldn't or simply did not wish to eat. He was going to have a talk with the staff about getting rid of those particular plates after today, _though maybe I can sell Newter's glass at a markup if it still has spit…_

Eventually, after they'd finished their tempura, they arrived at the real meat of the conversation, the actual reason he'd summoned the mercenaries.

"Not that we don't appreciate the food-" Mr. Blonde began leadingly.

"But I doubt you invited us over because we're good conversationalists." Glitch finished.

"You are good conversationalists," Kenta said with an airy wave, and it was right as well. Since most people didn't appreciate being dined out as a prospective business partner these days as much as Glitch's Crew did, especially not in his line of work. "But you're right, that's not why you're here. As you've most likely surmised, I have a job for you, a little pest control to be more precise."

He could only see Newter raise an eyebrow, but the change in body posture from the others also indicated they were keenly interested. He personally preferred Glitch's Crew over Faultline's for this exact reason. Meaning not only because they were undoubtedly more reliable but also because it was a well-known fact by now that all the members weren't what one would call right in the head. And enjoyed jobs that were more challenging and, therefore, more exciting, making them positively pre-disposed not to charge as much for them, whereas Faultline was the exact opposite.

"Of whom?" Glitch asked with stapled fingers, the unasked question being, _which Nazi do you want me to kill?_ Lung merely slid over one of the newer smartphones on the market across the table. Said smartphone displayed a blurry picture of a lanky female Cape wearing a dark hoodie, hockey mask, and carrying around a crossbow that can be commonly found in stores for hunters around the East Coast.  
Glitch whistled in appreciation and tilted the phone, so his other compatriots could catch a glimpse, though their reactions were much more subdued he could tell the photo grabbed their attention.

"I've heard of her, new vigilante PHO's calling her Stalker, was spotted around the docks and sometimes further into your territory," unsurprisingly it was their Thinker who spoke first.

"I heard she was pretty violent. Didn't think she'd be giving you this much trouble, though." Glitch commented lightly, but the thinly veiled barb was felt all the same. "From what I've heard, she's just a Mover, and you got the second-strongest mover in Brockton Bay, working as your lieutenant." Left unsaid was that Glitch was or at least considered himself to be the strongest.

Lung shook his head. "She definitely has a Mover sub-rating, but according to the guys who've run into her, she's primarily a Breaker and their weapons, including guns, have no effect while she activates her 'shadow form'.". Here he couldn't help but look towards Grue, "and since she only attacks at night, she's basically impossible to track down after she escapes."

Newter stifled a snort and attempted to elbow Grue, though the shadows merely shrank away when he tried. "You hear that, buddy? '_Shadow Form,'_ I think we just found your long-lost cousin." The mass of shadows moved in a slightly threatening manner, and the orange Case-53 raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Interesting," Glitch muttered, raising a hand to rub his chin but stopping at the last minute when he remembered he had a mask on. _Is his mask really that comfortable? _"Very interesting indeed, I take it you want us to PK this vigilante of yours?" He didn't _know_ what those two letters meant, but the way he said it left little to no doubt in his mind.

"No, at least not exactly," Lung began while taking a sip of his plum wine and savoring the familiar burn. "I just want her to stop interfering in my operations. However, you get it done is up to you, but if you decide to 'PK' her, then do so outside my territory and in a way that isn't linked to me."

"How much?" The ever-practical Mr. Blonde interjected.

"Fifty grand total, twenty-five if you accept and another twenty-five once the job's finished." Lung answered, and none of them, except for maybe Grue, who he couldn't read, were ready to take the job. In fact, Newter was about to speak, presumably to argue or decline, but Glitch raised a hand to forestall his subordinate's exclamation.

"This would be a fair price if the job was just to fight her, but we both know that's not where the difficulty lies."

Lung shook his head, "I'm well aware, but tracking her down cannot prove to be such a hassle, especially with a Thinker."

Mr. Blonde snorted, "I appreciate the vote of confidence, sir, but my powers don't just magically tell me the location of anyone I want."

"Besides," Newter added flippantly, "from what I can gather, you want this done as soon as possible, right?"

Kenta nodded hesitantly.

"Then that makes the price even more contentious. Tracking her down will prove time-consuming, time that could be spent on other work, that would be more profitable, though I'll admit less enjoyable." And there was the crux of the matter. Lung knew he was lowballing them, Faultline would've likely already demanded double, but the thing is unlike the woman Glitch enjoyed jobs that tested his mettle as a warrior, _not unlike Hookwolf actually_.

"Then what price would you suggest?" Lung growled threateningly.

The four Capes-For-Hire shared a look, "Eighty-Thousand."

He shook his head, angrily. "Maybe, _maybe_ the job is worth seventy-five, and we both know that's pushing it."

"If you round it up to eighty," Glitch responded with more calmness than he felt, "then I guarantee you we'll get it done in a week or we'll do it for free."

Newter and Mr.-Blonde quickly turned to look at their companion in shock, before schooling their expressions equally as fast. Kenta smirked under his mask.

"Agreed." He said with a vicious smile. _If their Thinker doesn't think they can do it, how good can their odds be?_

* * *

[Interest], Generator muttered in my mind. My Passenger never deviated from using a constant volume. Still, somehow, I always understood how exactly it wanted to convey certain things, and here it tried to come across as thoughtful. Odd because my Shard knew full well that I was aware it had a one-track mind that precluded it from grasping the full consequences of what we were seeing.

[Resentment]

"Yeah, yeah, murmur it up d-bag," I answered verbally and, in my mind, added, "_you know I'm right. Otherwise, you could be fulfilling our job on your own._"

[Grudging Acquiescence], [Scathing Insult], [Subject: Progenitors]

I snorted, teaching my Shard snark was an ongoing process that was made almost impossible by the fact that his' _species?_' could only communicate in concepts, but I had made some progress since we'd met. Nothing to the level of the banter that John Connor and the T-800 shared in Terminator 2, but still, progress was good all things considered.

"A yo' mama joke?" I asked incredulously, "Should I remind you that Cthulhu's cousin literally had to fuck himself to make you?"

[Exasperated Fondness], [Inefficiency]

I rolled my eyes and got back to work at my Shard's insistence, still not sure whether or not Generator could pick up on the gesture, but it was the thought (which he definitely could) that counted. I kept browsing Shadow Stalker's, currently only known as Stalker's, thread on PHO with my civilian account _RNGenthropy_.

What I found there was what triggered the original subject of discussion. You see me, and therefore Generator had a mental image of Shadow Stalker due to my metaknowledge. A picture of an arrogant Social Darwinist brat who vented repressed emotional trauma with a good old fashion bout of fisticuffs (read: Crossbow Bolts) instead of dealing with it properly. _Kind of like a poor man's Batman_, my Brain added unnecessarily, yet I still found myself laughing at the thought.

Still, the prejudice that I inherited from Taylor Hebert only made me _think_ I had a grasp on Sophia's personality. I figured out fairly soon, though later than I would've liked, that Taylor's descriptions of specific people were wrong by a wide margin, not because the universe didn't mirror the story, but simply because she was a teenager.

A teenager who believed that there were two kinds of people on the planet. Either you were an asshole who was out to get her. Or another variety of assholes who didn't care about her at all. And this starting position from which to gain a grasp on other people's personalities always led to said grasp being off the mark to varying degrees. The prime example of this being Lung, whose Worm's protagonist mainly describes as an angry, mindless Killer Croc who could barely speak in understandable English. But keep in mind their first and subsequent meetings had been colored by the fact that Taylor _made his dick rot off with spider venom_. So, it's at least a little understandable that the big guy would be a tad peeved whenever they met.

Thankfully, as far as I could see for Sophia, Taylor's description was close enough. The black teen was definitely violent and somewhat impulsive, and while I hadn't gone, nor did I have any plans to go to Winslow to confirm the veracity of Taylor's descriptions of her bullying. I would carefully operate under the assumption that it was true merely because all of her reports certainly fit into the psychological profile of her as a vigilante.

The problem was that this assessment of her personality made me subconsciously connect her gross inadequacies in empathy and ideology to her competence. I initially thought that Sophia in costume was a more savage yet less repressed version of Glory Girl. And, therefore, even more, impulsive going after the first bad guy she saw like the hungry predator she so wanted to be, mindlessly chasing when she smelled blood.

This was almost laughably off the mark. Truth be told, I was actually impressed with her work as a vigilante, she wasn't called 'Stalker' for no reason as she always waited to strike at the opportune moment. AKA, when there were no other Capes present and almost always when the gangsters she fought, were at a severe disadvantage. The ABB had sustained several losses after she'd ambushed a group of them when they were leaving a bar drunk as skunks, the merchants usually got their asses handed to them at the same time, they were high, and she even took a page out of my handbook with the E88, following the members home and discreetly throwing Molotov's through their windows. She had done more damage to the gangs than most heroes in the city did, and she was careful not to patrol in predictable patterns making her almost impossible to track down.

_If you don't have an unfair advantage, that is_, I thought with a cackle as I pulled up a map of Brockton Bay and highlighted the four households which were registered under the name 'Hess.'  
I narrowed down the list a fair amount, but it would still be pretty hard to find her in the one-week Lung had given me as my time limit. But all things considered, I was pretty sure that the easternmost house on my screen was the one. It was near a bus stop that could get her to Winslow without much of a hassle, and there was one more geographical particularity which helped me cement the theory in my mind.  
See, given Sophia's ethnicity, it was almost a given that she'd hate the Empire the most, but Stalker was most well-known for going after the Azn Bad Boyz more than any other Gang in the Bay, _why is that?_ Simple, if my hunch is correct, then it's because her house is way closer to Lung than Kaiser.

A plan to fulfill my end of the contract began to form in my mind.

I smirked mockingly, "Too bad, Ms. Hess, If you'd just been a little less lazy, who knows what you could've achieved?"

[Hypocrite]

I tried to stifle the ensuing laughter as best I could, "Asshole."

* * *

Sophia Hess looked down from a rooftop with a scowl, not an uncommon occurrence. In fact, her face bore such a scowl far more often than not, but it was usually because someone or something had managed to arouse her ire. Now it was precisely because of the opposite, there was nothing happening, and nothing had happened for the last few weeks. _All because someone paid the fucking wacko to do the PRT's job for them_, she thought with a scoff as she felt her power take hold. In her shadow-state, she was soundless, lighter, stronger, _free_, and she exploited these advantages ruthlessly to make a leap towards the neighboring rooftop that would've had Olympic athletes fuming in jealousy. _Not that anyone watches those anymore_.

Despite the rush of wind and ecstasy of adrenalin that came whenever she attempted any kind of superhuman feat, she was ultimately left disappointed once again. The alleyway she was staring down at had as much in it as the last one she was patrolling, that is to say, zilch. _Well, not exactly nothing_, she thought with a frosty contempt that she usually reserved for her prey, _just a dead cat a whole lot of fucking garbage and…_ She had to blink for her brain to properly register what she saw. Once she did, it only caused her ever-present scowl to deepen.

_I suppose I could take a potshot at him for public urination_, she sighed she wasn't quite ready to lower herself to that level yet, she'd leave those particular kinds of 'villains' to the government's lackeys and the soccer moms' kids that _was_ their area of expertise after all.

She let out a deep breath and adjusted her hockey mask, watching the former almost hypnotically as it condensed into a mist in front of her. She was just about to call it a night as she belatedly realized it had become two in the morning, _again_, and on a Wednesday no less. Her extracurricular outings were a perpetual source of conflict between her and her mother, not only because the older woman had no idea what she did _as if she would even care_, but also because she often found herself doing it during school-nights and much as she didn't want to admit it her calling was taking a toll on her grades. Grades that hadn't exactly been exemplary even before she'd triggered.

She shook her head to clear it. Now she was just pissing herself off with this much self-introspection.

_It's almost comical sometimes_, she thought. The universe worked in assholish ways, because why else would she hear a gunshot from close by right when she made up her mind to head home?

The vigilante bit her lip in thought. Usually, she avoided getting mixed up in ongoing fights Capes or no. Though she'd never admitted it out loud, Sophia knew she wasn't that smart, but that didn't automatically make her _stupid_. She knew how long independents lasted in this city, and she was at least capable of assessing her power fairly and comparing it with some of her fellow Capes in the Bay, and it just didn't stack up.

So, she resolved to fight smart and not hard, using her power in the most effective way. A tactic that hunters no matter the species had utilized since the inception of carnivores on earth, the sneak attack. And the first rule of this doctrine might as well have been, _don't get mixed up in an active gunfight while carrying a crossbow_. But she hadn't seen any real action in months, and if a fight had broken out between some gangs, chances are there were no Capes involved since she could hear guns. _Besides_, she thought with increasing resolve, _it's not like I have to intervene; I'll just call the cops or the PRT to deal with it depending on what I see._

Her decision was made then and there and not only because she could hear more gunshots in the time it had taken her to think. She felt her power take hold, and soon what any idle onlooker would've seen was a silhouette rapidly jumping from rooftop to rooftop. Eventually, in a few minutes in which the wind blew right through her, she materialized atop a rusty water tower that overlooked a warehouse where she could hear the gunshots coming from.

_ABB territory and I don't see any bodies yet… probably a spat with the Merchants then_. Bodies meant Empire-Eighty-Eight, while Skidmark's bitches usually left without much of a hassle unless one of the Capes was present.

She fumbled for the binoculars that hung across her neck. It was a bulky piece of equipment and one with limited functionality, it was only meant to serve as a toy for little boys pretending to be secret agents or something after all. But to her, the barely functioning night-vision capabilities the toy boasted along with it being in her price range made the binoculars a godsend.

The man she saw outside the warehouse served both to further support her theory and disquiet her. A white guy was standing there, automatically precluding him from being ABB. He either had a blood-splatter on his face or just had freckles, either way, it left her wishing for some of the equipment the PRT grunts had access to_._ She zoomed in further and noticed the man was idly holding a cigarette, or maybe a joint in his right hand.

_Definitely, Merchants_, she thought with a gleeful smile, those faggots were the easiest prey, usually so high they mistook her for their own shadows. But what didn't set her at ease was the lack of any ABB members, _did the Merchants get so high they started shooting at each other?_ But if that was the case, they would still be deep in Lung's territory, and if there was something that the racist jap didn't tolerate, it was Non-Asians doing any kind of business in his turf.

She allowed her power to seep through her in order to get a closer look, but it didn't work.

At least not as intended, she deactivated it with the most inescapable sense of alarm she'd ever felt barring when she'd first triggered. The cloying sense of emptiness and being unable to breathe when she phased through the water tower and on to the roof made her pause and realize that her surroundings had _changed_.

Though maybe they didn't, and that scared her more than anything, she was still on the rooftop, or for all she knew, she might have fallen off, and this was purgatory. Sophia couldn't' know anything for sure, because she couldn't see, she couldn't use her power without suffocating and feeling like she ran a marathon and as she soon found out because she couldn't hear her own panting. _She couldn't hear anything_.

Something shoved her forwards, and she tumbled to the ground, barely even comprehending that she no longer had access to her crossbow, which probably tumbled off of the rooftop. Her hockey mask was the only thing that saved her from breaking her nose. She swung around wildly, hoping to hit what was probably (_hopefully_) a Shaker/Trump whose power interfered with hers. She forced herself to stop swinging wildly when her brain reminded her that logically she still had to be on a precarious rooftop.

Instead, she took a few deep breaths and got into her best approximation of a martial arts stance. Only to have her legs kicked out from under her as she tumbled to the ground violently scraping her left knee in the process.

**"****Prey,**" a raspy voice intoned. It was so spectacularly cliché that if it were a horror movie, she'd have laughed out loud. But it wasn't a movie. It was just a _horror_. She slowly walked away from the voice, being extremely careful not to fall off the ledge, took the deepest breath she'd ever had, and activated her power_. Nothing can hurt me_.

"**It is pitch black**," the voice intoned matter-of-factly, and it seemed to come from all directions now, but for some reason, it sounded _exasperated?_ "**You are likely to be eaten by a Grue.**"  
That was when she felt it, an unspeakable agony.

Few people knew what it was like to be struck by lightning, even fewer could tell someone else what it felt like.

If she would've been asked Sophia Hess could've told them.

* * *

The first thing she heard when she came to was the rattling of a small light bulb chain. The old bulb wasn't attached to the roof as strongly as it probably should've been, and it swayed from left to right after it was turned on. Some would've called the effect hypnotic, but for Sophia, it only made it much harder for her eyes to adjust. Once they did, she took in where she was.

A stark white room, sitting tied up on a metal chair, which in of itself was welded to large steel pipes on the floor, and attached to a concrete wall. That particular realization came quickly, providing the answer to the second question she had asked herself since finding herself here, namely, '_Why can't I stand up?_'.

The first question was obviously '_Where the fuck am I?_', but the answer to that was not as forthcoming and was shoved aside by the hazy delirium born from a throbbing pain emanating from her back.

The fact that she _wasn't_ gagged surprised her since a lesser person would've cried or screamed for help by now. Sophia was not a lesser person. _Not anymore_. Therefore, she resolved to get herself out of her current predicament. She looked around through the slits of her hockey mask and smirked slightly, the Cape that had grabbed her and whose power interfered with hers wasn't in the room, meaning they probably didn't know that she could use her power to phase through her restraints. She began to phase into her Breaker state before being interrupted, not by the darkness, _anything but that_. But by a voice tinged with what she could tentatively call amusement.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The vigilante froze, somehow both metaphorically and literally. As the slow, deliberate footsteps of a man wearing a straitjacket and a faceless chrome mask resonated throughout the room. The man himself suddenly stepped into her field of vision, and Sophia didn't even bother to repress the shudder that came when she realized he'd been standing behind her the entire time, and she hadn't noticed.

"Oh, and why's that?" She didn't really care for the answer even on the off chance it did have a bearing on her survival, but she'd seen enough TV where this sort of situation played out. The more you get your kidnapper or torturer talking, the less time they had to focus on you.

Glitch, _because what other cape dressed like that_, gestured vaguely to his neck, before he began to scratch at wildly enough to draw blood. For the third time that night, Sophia was disappointed she hadn't realized something sooner. She despised that feeling more than anything now.

She scoffed derisively, but it was forced in order to hide the very real spark of fear that was bubbling up, this was a man who made a living out of hunting other Capes, a predator for hire and one she wasn't sure she could take on, and that was assuming the darkness Cape wasn't nearby.

"So, what you keep me locked in your sex dungeon and give me a dog coll-"

She spasmed wildly when Glitch presumably pressed a hidden button somewhere on his mask that caused the collar to shock her. With a sense of creeping fear, she noticed the parts of her body that her power had taken hold of actually hurt _more_ when he did.

"Pretty much spot on," the insane Cape commented idly once her the shock had seized, "though I'm afraid the collar was less my kinks showing and more necessary in this case. Electricity _is_ the only thing that can hurt you, after all."

That stopped her cold, and the words only reminded her of the painful throbbing she could feel on her back and the fact that said pain was inflicted while she was using her power. _Please, no, don't tell me I can get hurt again_.

She swallowed thickly, "Why?"

The faceless mask tilted itself to the right, a substitution for a raised eyebrow, "I'm sorry, you'll have to be more specific."

"Why am I here, why did you kidnap me?!" Her voice regained some vitriol by the end, due in no small part to a spike of adrenaline born from the pain of the electric shock.

"Generally speaking?" Glitch asked rhetorically, waving his hand in an airy motion, "I had Grue camp along your patrol route and kidnap you because Lung paid my Crew to get rid of you. More specifically? You're here so I can stop you from fucking with the ABB by telling a story."

"A story?" She repeated incredulously.

If Glitch picked up on her sarcasm and incredulity, he didn't show it and instead nodded sagely as a very large and dense looking leather-bound tome materialized in his hands. Sophia blinked; she knew like most residents of Brockton Bay that their city was home to an insane Shaker that had access to a Pocket Dimension, but seeing him use it was something else. The air noticeably warped where the harmless book appeared, but all it made Sophia wonder was how many weapons he had immediate access to. _How many tasers?_

"Yes, a story, a nice little fairy tale actually," he elaborated and gestured to the side of the book where the name _Grimm_ was boldly inscribed with gold letters. He coughed once theatrically and begun to speak in what was probably his best approximation of a British narrator while Sophia fumbled with her restraints to no avail.

"Once upon a time there was a little girl. You wouldn't call her a particularly special little girl, as she was neither very tall, pretty, charming, hard-working, or even particularly funny. In fact, barring her being a bit of a tomboy, the girl could've been described as being exceedingly _dull_."

"A very nice story," Sophia interrupted through gritted teeth while trying to dislocate her thumbs in order to remove the handcuffs, an action she had seen performed several times in action movies, but one she'd never attempted herself for lack of necessity, "but I don't see the fucking point."

Glitch shook his head, maybe sadly, but it was hard to tell with his helmet on. "Don't worry, it'll become readily apparent soon. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, see because of this girl's apparent shortcomings she was bullied mercilessly and relentlessly by the other children. But what the other children didn't understand about their victim was that soon something would happen that would transform her from prey into a predator, so everything, even their childish taunts and shoves, would just pass through her unnoticed. This is the story about how the little girl became special."

"Stop it_,_" she hissed out dangerously but felt as if her arms were as heavy as lead. And she couldn't muster the will to try to escape as memories that _didn't happen_ were being dredged up.

"You see, this little girl's father had left soon after her ninth birthday, and her mother being the kind, caring woman that she was didn't want her little girl to go through her most important, formative years without a parental figure, so she did what any woman would do in that situation, she put herself out there…"

"Stop it!" She repeated kicking and screaming, but for all the good it did her, she may as well have remained stock still as the chair didn't even budge an inch, and all she accomplished was bruising her wrists.

"Most dates were flukes as they often are in general, even more so for single mothers that have two kids to raise. But eventually, she found one that stuck, a nice, caring man that wouldn't leave his family like the last one. She liked him so much, in fact, that she introduced him to her two kids. He and Terry, the eldest son, got along great, a shared interest for Sports facilitated that much, but the little girl, who was named Sophia by the way, also caught his interest if in a _different_ way."

"_Please stop_," her plea was yearning, hopeful, _broken_. She barely even registered that Glitch knew who she was.

"At any rate," Glitch continued unperturbed, "The man did some _very_ naughty things to that little girl. Of course, neither her mother nor her brother believed her until it was far too late, and the man had done something so naughty, that it gave little Soph special powers. Now, the little girl wasn't weak anymore at all, she was strong, a predator. Even though all her powers allowed her to do was run. Run and hide from the miserable wreck that had become her life. The story doesn't really have an ending, except that now the little girl grew up and believes that everyone who can't take care of themselves deserves to suffer like she did until they learn how, that until you're strong, you don't deserve to be loved, and deep, _deep_ down the little girl who grew up understands one, inescapable fact. _She's weak, and this 'strength' she projects is façade. She keeps up to avoid getting hurt._"

She felt something wet rolling down her cheeks.

"What did you think of the story?" Glitch asked idly.

'_Go fuck yourself_,' is what she wanted to say, but it came out as an unintelligible choked sob.

"You see, personally, I don't like the way it ended very much." In one smooth motion, Glitch removed the lower half of his mask and lunged at her, lifting her hockey mask slightly and pressing his lips against hers. She bit down, _hard_. He didn't even flinch, let alone pull back. The coppery taste of blood that was quickly pooling in her mouth paradoxically made her calm down.

"W-what the fuck is _wrong_ with you?!" Sophia screamed the rage she'd been holding in for years, spilling out with the force of a lake no-longer held back by a dam. "You don't know a goddamn thing, just because you know my name, you think it gives you the right to try some first-year psych student bullshit!"

"You're right," Glitch answered completely seriously, "I don't know all that much for a fact. However, there are a few things I do know. For one thing, I know you are a wonderful person."  
The last sentence derailed her train of thought as if Alexandria herself had been standing in the proverbial train's way.

"A bit of an asshole," he added with a wry grin on his bloody lips as he wiped an errant tear from her cheek. She didn't stop him. "But, a wonderful person, nonetheless. You are beautiful, strong, and, most importantly, worthy of being loved no matter what anyone else says, especially if that someone else is _you_. I know that the last time you let someone in, they hurt you, and they hurt you _bad_. But I Glitch, bestow upon you the name of _Huntress_, a fellow Player worthy of the title, and therefore I shall endeavor to suture your wounds as best I am able!"

Sophia tried to laugh and instead snorted wetly at the last statement, which was delivered in an almost perfect impression of Mouse Protector, albeit with Glitch's particular brand of cheesiness thrown into the mix. The man removed her hockey mask completely, letting it fall on the ground with a clatter, and ran a hand tenderly through her messy hair, which was filled with sweat due to the night's ordeals.  
He kissed her, she bit down again, it wasn't as hard this time, not that she would've ever admitted it. His lips moved away from hers, trailing softly along her cheeks before reaching her earlobe. She stifled a moan when he began kissing her along the nape of her neck, but going by the brief pause of his ministrations and the self-satisfied smirk that formed on his face, he could tell anyway.

"Bastard," she muttered angrily. He just chuckled, which managed to piss her off _more_.

"You're technically correct," he said, still kissing her neck, but his right hand gripped the zipper of her hoodie and yanked it down forcefully. "Which to be fair _is_ the best kind of correct, but that wasn't very nice, Soph Soph."

Her hoodie's removal forced her brain, which was still reeling from earlier, to catch up with the current events as she struggled in place, _like a weak, useless worm_. "What the fuck are you even doing?!"

"Whatever you'll let me." He replied as he sliced open both her shirt and bra with a butterfly knife that suddenly manifested in his hand. "If you want me to stop, just say '_stop_.'"

Her C-cup breasts heaved as she tried to take in more air, and even with the upper part of his helmet in the way, she could tell that his eyes were locked squarely on them. His lecherous grin only confirmed it. "Go fuck yourself!" She started to struggle again, but her efforts were half-hearted at best and not only because her muscles ached from both the earlier free-running and escape attempts.

"Ah, but Soph Soph!" Glitch said with faux petulance, "I have such a nice alternative right in front of me."  
His lips resumed trailing down her neck. Eventually, they reached where she knew they were headed. She sucked in a breath as he nibbled on her left nipple. _It's hard from the cold_, she told herself, even if she didn't and probably wouldn't even believe it. He alternated between her nipples and his hands massaged the breast that his mouth wasn't paying attention to. This went on for some time, Sophia occasionally interjecting with insults that became less and less frequent as time went on. This went on for god knows how long, because she certainly didn't. But eventually, he bit down _just_ right. She couldn't have stifled that moan even if she'd wanted to.

"Did you just cum?" He asked slyly, his face nestled between her breasts.

"You, _c- cock-sucking asshole_."

"I'll take that as a resounding '_yes_' then," he said more to himself than to her as his lips continued to trail down her abdomen. She barely noticed when he undid the button of her jeans, but she most certainly did when he began pulling her panties down and kissing his way up her thighs.

"_S-stop,_" she murmured more quietly than she'd intended. And surprisingly, he did, his lips curling into a frown before straightening in a neutral line. He pulled back and began to raise her panties back up.

"Wait, just like that?" She asked incredulously.

He smiled again, his lips were cracked and somewhat swollen. _My fault_. But he had a nice smile, in any other situation she'd have called it charming. "Just like that," he confirmed as he reached to put her jeans. As he lifted them up, his head drew closer to her crotch, and he blew air at _exactly_ the right spot.

He hovered there briefly, and she interrupted him before he could pull back.

"_D-don't… keep going._" He didn't for a moment.

"You'll stop going after the ABB." It was a demand, not a question. She nodded, what else could she do?

Then with all the subtly of a bear, he ripped her panties off and started to eat her out. Her back would've arched through the merciless attack, but her restraints prevented that. Her walls clamped down around his searching tongue as she let out a wanton moan for the second time that night, even then he continued sometimes with languid licks along her folds, sometimes paying attention to her clit exclusively and sometimes pumping her with his fingers alone.

After what felt like an eternity of bliss, the next thing she knew, she was staring at a haunting pair of deep blue eyes as his length slammed into her again and again. Glitch's own face contorted in an expression of maddening ecstasy.

"I'm going to cum inside you," he said through labored breaths and a flushed face. She nodded mutely. "That wasn't meant to be a question. I'm going to-."

He let out a bestial grunt, and she a high-pitched squeal as thick ropes of white-hot semen splattered along her insides.


End file.
